Page 102 of Miguel
And nothing like this would ever happen again.
“Good. Now help me shower. I want to see Zeke, cuddle him, and then sleep for a week.”
I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Of course, Viejita.”
I’d helped her bathe and get dressed. It was a slow, arduous process, and every time she winced when I swiped the rag across her body, I felt the murderous intent rise in my blood all over again. I held it together long enough to brush out her hair and get her settled into bed beneath the covers. I’d let Zeke in where he promptly slid beneath the covers next to her and cuddled, both with tears in their eyes.
I hated the sight of their tears.
As soon as they were fast asleep, I made my way down to the basement where some of my other brothers were gathered. Strung up in the middle of the room was the man who’d hurt my woman.
When I walked in, he lifted his gaze and I smiled.
“Welcome to hell, hijo de puta.”
Chapter Forty-two
Miguel
“Justopenit.”
Lorena slapped the envelope on the table in front of me.
Instead of glaring up at my woman, I glared at the little slip of hidden paper. One I’d tried so hard to fucking forget I had hidden in my nightstand drawer. But of course, Lorena had found it, asked me what it was, and now was pressuring me to do the one thing I was too cowardly to do.
Open the DNA results.
I took a deep breath and raked my hand through my hair. When I finally looked up, she was looking at me with a tenderness that made my chest crack. Half of her face was mottled with healing bruises and looking at the evidence of what had happened to her weeks ago pained me in ways I never thought possible.
I forced myself to look back down at the results. As if I could see through them and to the truth underneath.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat.
“Miguel.” Lorena’s tone softened. “What are you so afraid of?”
I almost didn’t answer, but Lorena deserved the truth more than anyone.
“What if he’s not mine?” I whispered. I looked up again, and her bruised expression softened.
Her palm pressed down against the envelope, her fingers spreading wide. “Miguel, you know it doesn’t really matter what’s in here, right? Whether the results are positive or negative, you are still Zeke’s father.”
Tears threatened and I had to swallow them back. “But–”
“There are not ‘buts’. You are his father. You have cared about him since he was dropped off on your doorstep. You take him to the doctor, you feed him, clothe him, teach him to sign, got him hearing aids. But most importantly, you love him with your entire heart and I know you would do anything for that boy. He is yours, just as much as he is mine. Now stop stalling, because I know you need this truth.” She slid the paper in my direction. “Open it.”
She was right. I’d known it all along, but hearing her say the words aloud fortified my resolve. With trembling fingers, I reached for the results and tore them open quickly. I yanked the page out, flipped it open, and my eyes scanned the bold words on the page.
My heart thundered in my chest. My breathing grew labored. My vision blurred.
It wasn’t until the first drops fell on the page that I even realized I was crying.
“Miguel?” Lorena’s soft touch against my shoulder grounded me.
I looked up and a wide smile spread across my face. “He’s mine,” I said. “Zeke is my son.”
Epilogue
Lorena
